


I'm Standing In The Ashes

by Toxic_Ink



Series: she was like a storm [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry Potter, Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Apathetic Harry Potter, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Bossy Hermione Granger, Bullied Hermione Granger, Child Neglect, Clueless Rubeus Hagrid, Confused Dudley Dursley, Diagon Alley, Draco Malfoy Is A Diva, Draco Malfoy can be a git, Draco Malfoy is a Brat, Dudley Dursley & Draco Malfoy Parallels, Dudley Dursley is in Denial, Dudley Is Panicking 24/7, Female Harry Potter, Girl-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), Gryffindor Dudley Dursley, Harry Potter Has Bad Luck, I Tried, Independent Harry Potter, Leaky Cauldron, Magical Dudley Dursley, Malnutrition, Manipulative Harry Potter, Moody Dudley Dursley, Morally Ambiguous Character, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Muggleborn Dudley Dursley, Not Beta Read, Number Four Privet Drive (Harry Potter), POV Dudley Dursley, POV Harry Potter, POV Third Person, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley is a git, Rule 63, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Smart Harry Potter, Tagging as I go, The Dursleys' A+ Parenting, Vernon Dursley Being an Asshole, Wandless Magic, Wandless Magic - Freeform, discrimination against muggleborns, he throws a couple fits btw, i slept instead of updating this, not a writer but still writing, poor guy, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toxic_Ink/pseuds/Toxic_Ink
Summary: Harriet "Harry" Potter is enjoying life just being, she reads, sleeps and eat. Life is good.Until she gets the bloody letter from some 'magical' institution and her life is suddenly turned upside down, with a bunch of expectations on her shoulders and people claiming to 'know' and 'love' her. As if.Luckily, Harry can shoulder the weight of everything just fine. What she can't, however, stand for is the old coot lame attempts to manipulate her life and the annoyingly fake stutter of her DADA teacher.First year at Hogwarts and everything's already going to hell. Cheers.





	1. Alone

**Author's Note:**

> And  
In the end  
All I learned  
Was how  
To be strong  
Alone
> 
> -unknown

**| A L O N E |**

Harriet 'Harry' Potter hugged her knees to her chest, engulfed in the encompassing stillness and isolation of her cupboard - darkness blanketing her and she couldn't even see her own hands. 

She rocked back and fort, eyes open despite not actually seeing anything, and attempting to comfort herself - surely there wasn't any monsters alone with her in the cupboard, right? Surely, what Dudley said couldn't possibly be true, right?

She hugged herself tighter, alert and cautious - although 'paranoid' would fit better - and flinching at every small creak and sound, how many of what she'd heard was actually just her over-reactive or not is better left unsaid to spare the poor child any shred of dignity. 

Eventually she fell asleep, clutching herself so hard that her crookedly grown nails dug into her paper thin skin and left marks, in the morning she would be yelled at for the dried blood on her arms. 

-

"Freak!" Petunia screeched at the tiny girl sprawled haphazardly on her nicely tiled floor, ugly purples and blues adorned her snowy white skin - she bore a disturbing resemblance to the manner of one of Picasso's many paintings. 

Petunia stared in disgust and hatred at the useless girl, the girl was truly over-dramatic and attention-seeking, just like her mother, well, that was what Petunia thought anyway. The girl was wasting time with her over exaggerations all because she was feeling lazy! It wasn't like her dear husband, Vernon, had done anything drastic - he just pushed her around and disciplined her. It was as much kindness as the freak deserved anyway.

"You wretched little girl!" Petunia shrilled, "Always causing problems for everybody else and acting like the bloody victim! Just like your whore of a mother!"

Seeing the girl groan and a fear tears slip past the girl's eyes and Petunia was reminded, vividly, of how her Know-It-All sister always cried and always got her way - like some bloody spoiled princess! That girl, had inherited Lily's freakiness and victim-personality, Petunia swore she would beat it all out. 

Petunia didn't bother to conceal her anger and bitterness, nor did she hold back any strength as she kicked the girl harshly in her abdomen, watching in annoyance as the girl whimpered and fresh tears sprouted all over again. Petunia threw another kick at the girl, not feeling quite as satisfied as she thought she would've with the girl's pain - instead of voicing her discontent, she instead demanded, "Get up, you freak! Didn't I tell you to weed the garden?! You're just as lazy as your mother, but not in _my _house! Me and Vernon will stamp that out of you if it's the last thing we do!"

Harry endured. 

-

You see, this poor pitiful girl didn't even know her name was 'Harriet'. All this time she'd simply believed it to be 'Freak' as that was what her relatives referred to her as but that very morning, after she'd finished making breakfast for the Dursley's, Petunia and Vernon had roughly pulled her aside and revealed to her, her name. Harriet had been shocked and more than a bit confused - how could Harriet be her name? She'd went under Freak her whole life, they couldn't simply think she would just give it up, right? It was one of the only things she could safely call her's as no one else was called 'Freak' - and she was quite content with that even if the Dursley's made it sound like an insult all the time.

But they truly had expected her to accept the new name. 

"Your name is Harriet, you got that, Freak?" Vernon had huffed, glaring down at her as what she could only identify as disgust and hatred. 

She'd been confused but knew better than to speak out of line. That was when Petunia had joined in. 

"If you go off and tell _anyone_ that we call you 'freak' then you'll get a right beating! All right, you wretched girl?!" She'd shrilled, a nasty sneer marring her face. 

Harry nodded docilely, she was then informed that she would be entering a place called 'school' and that was where she'd been called the annoying new name, Harriet Potter - it had also been a surprise when she heard the last part of her name, she'd always assumed that 'Freak' was her only name - maybe it was her middle name?

That day, Dudley, her smelly, fat walrus of a cousin had started to spread nasty rumors about Harry and her 'freaskishness'. By the end of the school day, nobody liked Harry.

When she got back home, she returned to the name 'Freak' - which comforted her with its familiarity - and began the long list of chores that the Dursley's had ordered her to do.

The leftover scraps from Dudley's plate was all Harry ate that day.

-

Dudley had found himself a little squad of friends and they started this game called 'Harry Hunting' - Harry didn't really like that game.

Dudley was slow and instead of running he waddled like the ducks Harry learned about in class so Harry could outrun him sometimes but his friends were fast with longer legs than Harry and would always catch her for Dudley.

The first time Harry was introduced to the game, Piers - the second dumbest of the gang, Dudley being first - chased her all across the court yard until he finally caught her, the rest of the gang held her down while Dudley punched and kicked at her. Harry had thrashed in Piers and Dennis' hold, screamed and sobbed whilst pain exploded _everywhere _and her head spun dizzily as Dudley's gang chanted "Freak, Freak!" over and over again. 

But there was no rest, no sweet escape for Harry, darkness never came to claim her and so she remained conscious through the entire ordeal. 

Then the bell rang and Dudley and his gang rushed back for class - and it was over, except it wasn't and Harry also had to attend class lest she wanted a beating from her Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.

So even as every part of her _ached_, Harry pulled herself up and limped to class. Unsurprisingly, she was late and the teacher glared at her sternly for her disheveled state and lateness - the entire class giggled as she got scolded by the teacher. It was embarrassing.

She soon realized that no teacher would ever help her escape the bullying.

-

After a couple more games of Harry Hunting and Harry soon came to realization that the library was a 'safe zone'. Once she could outrun Dudley and his gang and she reached the library, they would leave her alone. She figured it must be too much words and 'smart things' (as Dudley called them) that confused them too much for them to actually do anything. 

Not to mention the teacher that supervised the library - a pin drop could make that woman start shrieking as shrilly as Petunia. Harry figured that Dudley and his gang must be afraid of the woman, Harry would've laughed if she too wasn't afraid of the woman. 

It was in the library that Harry met her first friend. A boy who was about an inch taller than - everyone was taller than Harry - with a messy mop of brown hair, oval shaped glasses that he wore over his wide blue eyes and a thick brown covered book that he always carried with.

"Hello," He introduced with a meek smile, "My name's Jack."

Harry cautiously smiled back to, giddiness welled up in her stomach as she eagerly replied, "My name's Frea- I mean, Harriet! Call me Harry, please."

Everything went absolutely wonderful after that. Jack introduced her to the world of books and often they would talk and talk over anything and everything they could think of. Those were the happiest moments of Harry's life.

-

Dudley and his gang had been annoyed and angry at Harry for always escaping to the library - one time when they spied her and Jack hanging out in class and that was when everything began to spiral back into despair. 

That lunch, Dudley and his gang actually followed Harry into the library and saw her sharing a book with Jack. They corned the both of them and dragged them out of the library. 

"Hey, I know you - you're that weirdo Jack, right?" Piers sneered and Harry saw Jack flinch, paling terribly. 

"B-Back off!" Harry attempted to be brave, standing in front of Jack protectively, though her knees were trembling and face awfully pale. 

"Awww, little wittle Scar-Face is def-defend, er... standing up for her friend!" Dennis mocked, stumbling on a word that he'd heard his mother say before simply giving up and saying something else. 

"So Jackie over here is Freak's friend?" Gorden leered at Jack who was cowering behind Harry. 

"Yeah!" Dudley agreed - probably because he didn't have anything smarter to say, "You 'einds with dah freak?!"

"S-Shut u-up-" Harry began but was interrupted by her dear friend. 

"N-No!" Jack rebuffed. 

Harry gasped in shock and betrayal, face contorting into one of disbelief and anger, "...What...?" It was barely a whisper. 

Piers cackled, "I guess even weirdos don't like freaks, huh?"

Harry stiffened, still staring at the boy who'd been her friend for two whole months - just waiting for when he'd say 'Just Kidding' and proclaim himself her friend proudly. Was that to much to ask? Surely he wasn't just acting all those times...right? What about all those books they'd read together. What about all the times they'd hung out in the library, just chatting and joking around. Was he ashamed of her? Was that why he never discouraged meeting only in the library and never talked to her much outside of it?

Was he _ashamed _of her?

Did he _pity _her?

Was that it?

The rest of Dudley's gang laughed and Jack refused to meet her gaze, sweating profusely and blue orbs darting everywhere but the piercing stare of her emerald green eyes, sharp like daggers. 

After that, Dudley's gang allowed Jack to scamper off - who never once looked back at her - and then proceeded to stamp out of her the precious hope and gaiety that had filled her ever since Jack had introduced himself to her, the precious hope and gaiety that she'd guarded away from the poisonous Dursley's. 

At the end of it all, Dudley and the Dursley's had succeeded. Not only had they beaten out of her that gaiety and hope that she'd treasured above all else - they'd _burned _it all away until all that was left was -

_**ashes **_. 

And then, like a great phoenix, she'd been reborn and when all was said and done - she'd pulled herself back together and stood above her ashes - jaded but _triumphant._


	2. Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dursley's learn not to poke a sleeping dragon, Harry believes the Dursley's should have their own reality show and a giant knocks on their cabin door.

**| S O L I T U D E |**

And after the whole incident with Dudley and his gang and Jack - Harry was fine. 

Everything goes back to normal and if everyone is just a leaf in the current of the winds of life then Harry is a rock that moves at her own pace and will tumble and stay steadfast when she feels like it. 

So everything is normal, in every sense that the Dursley's love so much, Harry goes back to being alone without anyone (without Jack) and goes back to being just a ragdoll for the Dursley's. And everything's her fault again, but that's fine.

Everything is fine and Harry quite finds herself just going with her own flow. 

-

Harry observes her classmates through hooded eyes and determines that she's the outsider (the freak) that the Dursley's always told her she was (at least they were right about some things). 

But Harry is fine with it. 

More than fine, actually, she sort of revels in her role of the outsider, the freak, the spectator. She likes the freedom of doing whatever she likes, damn the consequences, because she's the freak, she gets to act like freaks do. 

And freaks do whatever they want, right?

So Harry'll do whatever she wants. 

Even if that means getting extra nasty beatings from her uncle and added screeching and punishments from her aunt. What does it matter if the teachers allow Dudley to verbally and physically bully her? What does it matter? She's just the freak, anyway.

Harry is fine. 

-

Harry has discovered something. Something weird and freakish and something so_ her. _

Sometimes, if she really wants something so bad, it'll actually happen. 

Like when her aunt tried to shave her bald but the next day her hair grew back or when she was bored in class and her teacher's hair turned a bright neon shade of blue or when she was too lazy to grab a book in the library and it came flying right onto her table. 

Harry likes it. Whatever it is. She likes it. 

-

Vernon had came home more drunk and angry than usual that night and Petunia and Dudley had the fortune of being able to steer clear of his path. 

Harry was not so fortunate, but that wasn't anything new. 

That's when Vernon grabs at her too-large shirt and hauls her in the air, face a red-ish purple and eyebrows scrunched up. Harry watched him vacantly, distantly wondering what was his problem. 

"It's all your fault, you freak!" He bellowed, "You did this!"

Harry just wondered what the guy was talking about, Harry was pretty sure she wasn't the one who goaded him into a couple beers but she wisely decided to keep that to herself, it was no use to waste energy on a fool - didn't that make you the foolish one?

So she raised an eyebrow at him.

It was something she was quite proud of seeing as she'd been training her eyebrows for _days _in the mirror, just so that she could lift one individually in that cool way that they do in books. .

It's really cool.

"Huh?! No words, girl?!" Vernon snarled, "It's all because of yer stupid freakishness that 'is happened! 'is is how you repay me?! _I _put a roof over yer head and clothes on yer 'ack!"

'Yep,' Harry thought, 'He's really gone over the deep end with all those beers, huh?' Vernon then released his grip on her and she was sent tumbling to the ground, she hadn't even properly landed when Vernon's leg shot out and kicked her right in her gut. Harry choked on the air clogging her lungs, _she couldn't breathe!_

That night, the beating was particularly painful.

-

Harry later learned it was because her uncle had gotten demoted at his job.

So of course, the only rational thing Vernon could do, was get drunk and blame all his problems on her (the freak who caused problems for everyone). 

-

The sun was shining brilliantly in the sky, sitting upon its grand thrown of clouds amidst the sea of azure surrounding it and the little multi-colored birds that sat in the lofty trees were twittering and singing and it was a normal, nice morning that Petunia woke up to. 

As usual, she made her way to the kitchen - that's when she froze, unlike the perfect picture of the freak making breakfast like she'd envisioned, there was cracked plates and the fridge and cupboards were open and all the foods and cans were shrewn around the room and everything was in a disarray and Petunia was _mad_. 

Petunia blinked and blinked again. What was going on?

Petunia screeched, voice shrilling and if she'd gone even a touch higher in pitch, all the plates and glass in the kitchen would've cracked even more. 

It was no wonder that Vernon came sleepily barreling down the stairs, bat in hand and eyes wide, looking for danger, "What's wrong, dear?!"

"What's wrong?!" Petunia shrilled, "My kitchen! It must've been the freak!"

When Vernon took a look at his previously clean, perfect, _normal _kitchen and saw how _filthy _and chaotic it was, he snarled and lumbered over to the cupboard under the stairs, bat still raised in his hand and ready to strike.

Petunia followed behind him like a lost, curious puppy.

And the freak? Harry?

Harry was sitting quietly on their couch in the living room, gracefully sipping too-hot tea with a blissful smile plastered across her face. 

"WHERE IS SHE?!" Vernon roared, and Harry could see the vivid colors of red and purple (and was that a bit of blue in there?) flushing his entire face so he looked like a walking bruise, like the ones that still hadn't healed properly but littered Harry's small body. 

"Right here," Harry smiled prettily, flashing her yellow teeth (as the Dursley's never gave her anything, not even a toothbrush).

Petunia cringed at the disgusting sight, but her cheeks were flushed an unsightly red (so Harry knew she was _angry_) and as she opened her mouth to yell in that annoying voice of her's, Harry simply held her hand up in a shushing manner and suddenly everything was silent and no words escaped Petunia and the warmth that seeped from the sun of the early morning was retreated and only a slight (but _unnaturally_ overbearing) chill was clinging to their bones. 

And Harry smiled, "Well then, I suppose we should have a talk."

-

Harry smiled cheerfully as she waved her hand and the kitchen cleaned itself right up, broken dishes repairing instantly and packing itself away, glass cups and mug mending back together and all messes disappearing. 

Harry smiled at the way Petunia and Vernon scurried away from her and everything was okay.

Harry was back to being fine.

-

Dudley Dursley was not fine. 

In fact, he was very much confused. 

What was going on?

He'd woken up to a completely normal day, just the way his parent's liked it (he couldn't help but share their sentiments). His mother was looming over his bed, a small (slightly nervous twitching but he was too sleepy to really think on it) smile plastered across her thin, red painted lips and (what was definitely not _normal_ seeing as she always shrilled words) whispered to him, "Honey, my little Diddykins, wake up."

He still didn't think too much on it and why should he? It wasn't his problem if his mother finally noticed that shrilled words weren't the best morning welcoming.In fact, it was a _good _thing.

So he turned to the wall, away from her and closed his eyes to sleep again, "Five more minutes, mom!"

There was a steel to her voice when she spoke (she usually was so easy), "No, no, dear. I have to speak with you before you talk to that fr- Harriet."

His interest was peaked, "Who Harriet?"

His mother sighed, "The...freak."

"The freak has a name? But I thought freaks don't have a name, mom? Why does it have a name?" 

Now was when the confusion had really start to grab onto his still quite sleepy head.

"Honey, there's going to be a bit of changes, okay?" She said softly, "We can't call it that anymore, call it Harriet-"

"But _why?_" Dudley whined, he thought he could call the freak whatever he wanted?

"Honey," And the steely determination was back, "Call it Harriet and don't lay a hand on her, alright?"

"But _why_, mommy? It doesn't deserve a name, it's just a freak anyway!" Now Dudley was up and finally facing his mother, because there was no way _his _mother was saying those things. 

"It... It's a freak, honey, and freaks have this... freakiness to them - they're not normal - and if we don't do what she wants, she'll do something _really _bad and freaky, alright honey?"

"No!" Dudley shrilled (something he inherited from her), "No! I will call the freak whatever I want!"

That's when his mother glared at him (and she never did that before), "You _will_, Dudley Davis Dursley, and you will not fret nor complain, only _freaks_ do that!"

Was he a freak? No it couldn't be (he _couldn't _be).

But his mother just glared at him and she only ever did that to freaks. 

And she just said that...

Dudley Dursley would not be a freak. 

But he was still confused. 

-

Solitude was quite nice, Harry enjoyed it immensely. 

The Dursley's (after they had a very _civil _and _nice_ talk) had kept out of the way, she was still expected to make her own meals and see about herself but the beatings stopped and she didn't live in the cupboard anymore (though sometimes she still went back to sleep because it was _familiar_) and everything was quite nice. 

Sure, Vernon and Dudley had a couple _slips _but after some _gentle reminders _they learned. 

Everything was quite nice. 

-

Dudley, Gorden and Piers were going to the zoo for Dudley's birthday. 

The Dursley's hadn't invited her but that was fine and it just meant she had more time for herself and to practice the... freakiness that had gotten her out of the beatings and... neglect (never would she say abuse, she hadn't been _abused_).

It had been a good day.

-

It had been just another day. 

Harry was eating her breakfast (a slice of bread and butter) contently and Petunia and Vernon were ignoring her - it was a good day.

Dudley had went out to collect the mail. 

Since they lost their chore-girl, the Dursley's had opted to get Dudley to help around some because (apparently) he would need the practical life lessons for when he was older. His chores were nothing like Harry's (nicer, softer) but the git still complained and whined. 

That was when Dudley busted back inside, a wad of envelopes in his large, flabby hands that were trembling. Harry raised an eyebrow (she was still pretty proud of that feat) but didn't really care, just went back to taking a small bit from her bread.

_Crash!_

Harry startled, eyes darting around wildly until it finally found it's way to her aunt, the woman's face was pale and hands trembling, she was whispering (like a mantra) , "N-no, this can't be!"

The woman had dropped her mug of tea which now coated the carpet and Vernon eyed her concerned (at how _un_normal she was acting, at the way her knuckles turned white as she grasped the wad of envelopes, a single mail opened), "Pet, you alright?"

"THEY GOT IT WRONG!" Petunia shrilled, ripping the paper to shreds and Vernon reached over to physically restrain her, asking what was was wrong. 

"They got it wrong, Vernon!" She said, almost desperately, "They got it wrong!"

"Got what wrong dear?"

"There's no way my son could be- they got it wrong!"

"Our son? Dudley? What's this about, dear?!"

"Nonononono!" Petunia chanted and snatched at another envelope, ripping it open and almost immediately tore it to shreds. 

"PET!" Vernon bellowed, "Calm down! What is this about?!"

Petunia's knees gave away and she sank to her knees (her pretty dress stained with the fallen tea), salty tears sliding down her cheeks, "Our son's a freak, Vernon! A freak!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, 'Well isn't this interesting?'

-

Harry (after some _gentle questioning_) had soon found out that there had been two letters, one for her and one for Dudley. 

And wasn't that interesting. 

You see, that night, Harry had gotten Petunia to spill and _spill _she did. 

Apparently, her mother had been a witch (and wasn't that cool) and Petunia had known that Harry was a witch too but never bothered to explain and that there was some magical boarding school that wanted both her _and _Dudley to attend. 

The only catch?

_Normal _people wouldn't welcomed, which could only mean that Dudley (no matter the denials and tears that Petunia had spat and shed) was _not _normal. 

Harry cackled at that.

-

Vernon hadn't so much as _looked _at his son and Petunia always adverted her eyes, Dudley had yet to come out of his room for the past week and neither of his parents preferred otherwise. 

The Dursley's had assumed (wrongly) that after Petunia had torn the letters that, was that. 

They were wrong (something Harry delighted in) and letters bombarded their _normal _life left and right. 

Vernon had tried everything, he stopped checking the mailbox, he barricaded the whole house (as if it was the zombie apocalypse or something) and was generally in a terrible mood (but he typically was so it wasn't something that surprised Harry).

It was Sunday morning when Vernon walked (though it was more like a _skip) _down the stairs in a jolly-right mood (practically _whistling_) and proudly declared that the post-office didn't deliver mail on Sunday's and therefore, no mail would be appearing anytime soon. 

Harry had thought it stupid seeing as every magical system she read about in books, typically had their own communication system so she assumed that the magical world did too. 

She was right. 

This time, the mail had cascaded down the chimney. 

It was fun watching Vernon nearly burst a vein over the whole thing. 

-

Vernon, being the paranoid jackass that he was, dragged the entire family and Harry off to some cabin in the middle of no where (how he had the money to rent it? Harry didn't know.)

If it was anything that truly bewildered Harry was why they'd even bothered to ask her anyway? She was sure it would've probably been more to their liking if she (the freak) was to stay at the residence (that place wasn't her home). But, she'd still decided to tag along if only to watch the show.

-

Now, usually, Dudley would whine about being hungry and the canned beans not being to his palate but with Vernon seething and practically frothing at the mouth (like a bloody dog) and not even looking at his son the entire time; even _Dudley _could read the situation. 

So he stayed quiet. 

Harry found that she quite liked him better like that. Sitting and just shutting the bloody hell up. 

That's when a knock that shook the entire cabin was heard, it felt like an earthquake and Harry fell off the bed by accident, groaning as the very _ground _shook and moved beneath her. 

"Open up the door!" A gruff sound yelled and Harry spied Vernon disappearing behind a wall before reappearing with a shotgun in trembling, pale hands.

"They found us," Petunia whispered, eyes wide and bloodshot - she hadn't been getting a lot of sleep lately. The dark panda circles around her eyes testified so. 

"NO!" Vernon yelled back, trying to seem like he was in charge but Harry could see the man's knees trembling and eyes a touch wider and he was very much frazzled. 

It was a fun show to watch. Who knew the Dursley's could be so entertaining?

Then the door exploded into large chunks of wood and tiny splinters, a man stood their, tall like a pine tree and the night backdrop behind him made him seem _that_ much more intimidating. 

Huh, a knew character was added to the play. 

Harry was all too happy to spectate like the outsider she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright then.  
I'll just like to acknowledge and warn those who are actually interested in reading this fanfic that this is probably going to be like super bad and cringey (as I said, i'm not good at writing so they'll probably be a lot of plotholes and other bad-writey things). 
> 
> Fair warning, they'll be Oc's (like two or three idk) for those who don't like those stuff. Its in the tags too but oh well.
> 
> A lot of characters are probably gonna be OOC and not just because I suck at dialouge.
> 
> I do plan on finishing this but that'll probably be a loooong while from now.


	3. Not Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dudley is in denial, Harry is bored until Dudley gives her something to be entertained by and Hagrid is disappointing to Harry.

**| N O T R I G H T |**

The night brought forth a darkness that blanketed the woods, and only some mediocre lighting was available in the small cabin Vernon Dursley had dragged his family and the freak off to. Rain poured down sounding like marbles clattering against the pavement, thunder shook the skies and lightning struck and blinded, striking viciously at trees and roads. It was a dangerous night, and it spelt trouble for the Dursley family. 

Dudley sat hunched on a wooden chair that was obviously too small for him, sulkily picking at a can of beans. He hadn't been eating a whole lot and was feeling too humiliated, and angry and _empty _to truly complain about his choice of meal. It was clear to him that by the angry pacing of his father, the purple-hue that sparked hellish fire in his coal-black eyes and the red flush to his round cheeks, that his father was not in the mood for his whining. Not after being such a disappointment - he _was _a freak after all. The blasted letter said so.

Dudley peaked at his mother.

She sat in a wooden rocking chair, still as a doll, face weary and tired, dark circles under her bloodshot eyes and her thin lips in a line, her slender fingers grasping at the wooden handles as if it was her lifeline, the only thing keeping her _grounded_. Dudley reconnected his gaze with the floor, darting to anything but the pathetic sight of his mother. A sight he himself had caused, all because he was a freak. 

But... but he couldn't be a freak! Dudley wanted to yell, to protest, that he wasn't one of those freaky gits, he was normal! Like his dad, like his mother! He swore. But he knew that even if he swore up and down, night to day, that it would never be enough. The damage had already been dealt. Now, even his caring mother couldn't look him in the eye and his father was going mad. 

And the freak, all it did was lean against a wall and say nothing - looking blissfully ignorant of the weight that Dudley felt he was trapped under, like Atlas under the sky, a prisoner to his fate. A prisoner to destiny. He couldn't fight it and no amount of excuses would win his freedom, the facts were there and Dudley was a...freak. 

Dudley hated the freak.

And he hated the blasted letter.

He hated that his parents couldn't even look at him as anything but a freak.

-

The can nearly fell from his weak grip when a resounding pounding at the door startled everyone and shook the very foundation of the small cabin. 

"They've found us!" Petunia whispered, pale and eyes wide as if she'd seen a ghost. She felt as if she was about to faint. 

-  
  
  
Everything was just _not right_.  
Nothing matched up to the picture cemented in Dudley's brain, the picture of his father standing like an unmoving pillar of strength, like a mighty superhero of justice against freakishness - but this image only flickered briefly into existence before fading into a less reassuring one: Vernon pale like a body drained of blood and trembling in the presence of the freakish giant.

  
But-but that couldn't be right!  
He wanted to object. To protest against the **_wrongness_** of it all.

  
  
This couldn't be his father - this could not be the man who taught him how to stand up for himself in the face of the weak freaks who called him mean names for being fat and stupid. Who'd reminded him that they were lower than him and too stupid to see his greatness, to see his genius. The one who'd taught him how to assert his greatness on freaks, who'd taught him how to punch away all obstacles.

  
This could not be his _father_.

  
  
But indeed it was.  
His father, Vernon Dursley, was-was _losing_?! Against a freak no less?

  
  
Dudley had always wanted to be like his father, who was like a real-life superhero out of the comics his mother forbade him from reading. He'd tried so hard to be like him, to be as _manly _and strong as his father, to punch away any and all obstacles or problems in his life as his father did. So why did he fail so often? Why was his first instinct to cry and hide? Why was his first instinct to lie and cheat rather than fight with his fists?  
And why wasn't his father living up to his expectations? Why wasn't his father living up to the expectations that he'd forced onto himself?

  
  
Dudley felt tears well in his wide eyes, felt his knees shake and buckle, felt his meaty fist clench and his heart hammer against the prison of his ribcage - like his thoughts fighting against the small cage he'd unknowingly allowed his father to impose on him, living his life solely to live up to the false impression of his father. He'd been imprisoned in a dystopian way of thinking and still willingly thought in ignorance.  
But what did a silly, naive little boy know?   
What did a sheltered, leashed lion of a boy know?   
What did a coward boy who hid behind his mother know?

  
  
Nothing, he knew nothing. But he would learn, soon, very soon.

  
-

  
Harry sighed, flipping another page of her book.  
It was all so boring, really. 

  
  
Usually, Harry was the observer from the shadows, the watcher from the audience, the eyes that followed and was never lost in a crowd.   
She _liked _watching, really.  
In her eyes, life was a stage, filled with exotic characters who all intertwined stories to form a grand play that only she watched, perched atop her seat in the audience. All characters that entered life entered the stage, but Harry was content living on the outskirts of life, content with being the freak, content with being the spectator from the audience giving commentaries when necessary to push the play forward.  
It was all amusing to Harry.  
Everything was just an elaborate show. So nothing mattered.

  
  
Yet now that she watched, she couldn't help but wonder why they wouldn't put on a better show for her?  
It was clear what was going to happen. The script was so severely predictable that it chased away all her amusement and fun, only leaving boredom in its path.

  
  
Looking back down at her book, she could only hope to find better entertainment than watching Dudley cower behind the chair of his mother, Petunia imitate one who'd frozen in the gaze of a ghost and Vernon who fought in futile against a fated end.

  
  
Harry supposed that the most disappointing was the giant himself.  
He was a freak - but unlike her.

  
  
As vain as it may sound, Harry thought of freaks as a thing of beauty. An art.  
Freaks were supposed to break free of the social norm, to tear the laws of the universe to shreds and burn the world to ashes.  
And yet he was so scripted and _boring_.  
Was there truly freaks who were so boring? Could they _really_ qualify as freaks?

  
No, Harry shook her head, they could not.  
The giant may be a giant, but he was no freak.  
He was only a normal pawn, only small fish swimming among sharks. He did not deserve the title of _**Freak**_.

  
Harry sighed once again, _'What a disappointment.'_

  
-

  
It chuckled a deep rumbling sound from its chest, "So the Dursley younglin' is a wizard, eh?"

  
  
"Get away from my son-!"  
It not so gently pushed his father away and seeing his pillar of strength removed from the equation melted in the insides of Dudley and he felt like curling into himself. He sank even deeper into the corner between the rocking chair of his mother and the wall. 

  
  
"Get away yer great prune," The giant grumbled, "Now what's yer name, Dursley younglin'?"

  
  
Dudley felt his heart hammer a stifling beat in his ears and he suddenly felt lightheaded, the blood rushing to his head and his face turning a similar shade of red that matched his father's. He shrilled slightly delirious, feeling just a tad hysterical and like his head had inflated like a balloon and was ready to pop any second, "Uhm, I, uh - I don't need to answer to you, Freak!"

  
  
He trembled even as he proclaimed this.

  
The giant turned murderous, glaring down at Dudley and he felt his stomach drop, "What'd yer say?! What'd those blasted Dursley's been tellin' yer, boy?"

  
With nothing better to do, Dudley averted his gaze from his father's soon-to-be disappointed ones and answered as a mouse being trodden on, "I meant, Uhm, I'm-I'm Dudley Dursely..."  
He truly was a coward.

  
The giant huffed, then turned to Harriet, "There yer is, Harriet! A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat 'ere for yer - I mighta sat on it at some point but itta'll be alright."  
He pulled out a slightly squashed box, Dudley spied a small chocolate cake with the words 'Happy Birthday Harriet' scrawled in green icing.

  
The freak looked up blankly from its book and stared deeply at the giant for a while, it seemed to be at a lost for words before it finally settled on smiling and said, "Uhm, thank you...?"

  
"Haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. "

  
Dudley shivered feeling his blood run cold seeing the two freaks acting so close towards each other. They were both so weird and-and unsettling... Dudley wished they would both disappear and leave him and his family alone. Why couldn't they see that he wasn't a freak like them?! That he was perfectly normal?!

  
But Dudley could not be blamed for his ignorance in entirety.   
He was only a lion cub blinded by a thick black and white veil, he only looked through the monochrome lens of a very rigid society. Normal was good and Freak was bad. Could he be blamed for not wanting to be bad? For wanting to be normal like his father? Like his mother?

  
He felt a fire slowly but surely start to build in the small box occupied by his thoughts - started to taste despair and drown in hopelessness, felt anger bubble under his skin and shame poison his thoughts.  
He was a loose cannon, a puppet on strings pulled by his emotions.

  
He watched as the two freaks interacted, saw his family practically held hostage by the freaks.  
Saw the freaks dine and sip tea as if they weren't in their presence. Who were they to ignore them? Who were they to act as their betters when everyone knew the natural order of things - that Normal was right and Freak was bad?  
  
"Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."  
Vernon said sharply, protectively standing a bit closer to Dudley.

  
But the giant chuckled darkly, "Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."  
  
And Dudley felt his senses light in a fire, his mind go blank (burnt to ashes), felt his limbs burn and muscles ache as he charged angrily (bravely, boldly, senselessly) to stand up for what he knew to be right. To fight like the superheroes from his comics, to fight like his dad did so many times before him, to be strong for his weak-hearted mother and to fight against the freaks.  
The freaks should know their place!

  
The next thing he knew, he'd succumbed to darkness.

  
-  
  
  
A motionless Dudley laid on the floor, a painful-looking knot decorating his head and Harriet stared at her cousin in a new light - who would've thought that out of the giant, the abusive drunkard and the envious aunt, it was the brainwashed pig that brought her the most entertainment of the night?  
Harriet hadn't - a grave oversight on her part.

  
To her, Dudley had always been a coward, only having the capacity to bully those smaller than him. Not to mention that he was mentally slower than a snail and easy to manipulate, especially by his parents who painted a dystopian-like setting around him since birth, doing everything in their power to mould him into what they believed to be 'Normal'.   
He was a slave to his emotions, a slave to his parents and the black-and-white moral compass that his parents gifted him - there was nothing special about him except his mental challenges. 

  
And yet, despite nothing being even remotely exciting about him, he was the bomb that set off a chain reaction.  
It was the single most entertaining night of her life and she only had the stupidity of Dudley to thank for it.

  
Seeing his son be knocked out by Hagrid, the un-freakish giant, spurred Vernon onto a onesided scream-show against the giant.  
"Haaah," Hagrid gruffly sighed, "Guess'll hafta haul this one back by his tail, eh?"

  
  
"Back where?!" Vernon screeched, "I told you - you can take the girl but you will _not _take my son!"

  
  
Hagrid rose a bushy eyebrow, "What'dya mean, Dursley? This one a wizard, can't just leave him with yer great muggles even though-"  
  


"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.  
  


Harriet softly giggled into her book, noticing the dark shadow that rested upon Hagrid's face, noticed the snarl marring the giant's lips and how the man's hands tightened into a fist and twitched violently. Hagrid seized his old battered pink umbrella and whirled to face Vernon, "NEVER. INSULT. ALBUS. DUMBLEDORE. IN. FRONT. OF. ME!"  
  


Harriet tilted her head, watching the colour slip from Vernon's face and the violent spark of power that emitted from the tip of umbrella that not a second too slow lashed out and the next thing she knew, there was the sound of a firecracker and a high-pitched squeal - Vernon sported pig ears out from his head and a pig nose that meshed disgustingly with his natural pale colour. The way the pink of the pig parts and human paleness meshed was almost sickening and disturbingly fascinating to Harriet - Vernon looked like Frankenstein had operated surgery on him.

She wanted to know how.

Not to mention how the giant had used his magic - he'd used the umbrella to channel the magic which was a bit weird to Harry.   
Did he _need _something to channel his magic through or was it just a preference? Maybe the more magic being used the harder it was to control? So he needed a transmitter of sorts?  
Whatever it was, Harry was curious.

And finally, there was the _very curious _mention of a new character added to the play - Albus Dumbledore or 'Old Crackpot' as Uncle Vernon oh-so lovingly referred to him.  
Whoever he was, he would make an interesting new addition to the cast (of this, Harriet was sure), by the respect Hagrid displayed for the man and the fear that welled in Vernon and Petunia's eyes.  
Hadn't she read something like that in her letter? 

Fishing out the crinkly, folded letter from her pant's pocket, she was indeed correct - Albus Dumbledore was the headmaster of the school and also seemed to be apart of a whole greater scheme of things.   
She was indeed right, he _was _going to be an interesting character. She couldn't wait to see why Uncle Vernon and Aunty Petunia held such fear of him and why Hagrid respected him so well. She _could _theorize though: she assumed that Albus was some powerful wizard and because of that, Vernon and Petunia were scared shitless. 

Though she could see many plotholes in that reasoning - for one, Hagrid was a wizard too and Vernon and Petunia didn't seem too scared as to be complacent (well Petunia was but her point remained) and even if he was powerful, how did Vernon and Petunia know of his existence and power? They should've only seen his name on the letter.

Uncle Vernon roared in panic and outrage, grabbed Petunia and hauled her to the other room, shutting the door with a resounding '_BANG_'!  
It wasn't very surprising to Harriet how they'd forgotten to take Dudley with them - they'd been acting like right gits when around Dudley for the last few weeks. 

Hagrid, on the other hand, exhaled harshly, lowered the pink umbrella and hung his head in shame, "Shouldn'ta lost me temper but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do. "

Harriet giggled lightly and hummed in agreement.   
Not only was Hagrid a giant with a pink umbrella, but he was also a giant with humour as well.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff - one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job. "  
  
"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.  
  
"Oh, well - I was at Hogwarts meself but I - er - got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore. "  
  
Harriet hummed, "What's so great about Mr Dumbledore?"

Hagrid gasped, "Yeh don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Dumbledore's one of the greatest wizards to ever live! Even-even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named feared 'im! He was one of light's greatest fighters, yeah. He was even the one to order me to carry yeh to the Dursley's - great wizard he is."

"What...?"  
Harry had a plethora of questions just waiting to spill from her lips.  
  
Firstly, who who was 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'? Secondly, why was there a need to have fighters for the 'lights' and why had Dumbledore ordered her to live with the Dursley's? Even if he assumed they would be good caretakers to their niece, surely he didn't just leave a child in the hands of strangers without checking up on her again - right? Surely not - that would just be idiotic.

But she asked none of those questions - except one, "Who's He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"  
She figured she could observe the Dumbledore fellow later seeing as he was the headmaster, she figured she could ask later about the lights but she wasn't sure what the relation between the mysterious fellow who could not be named. The way Hagrid said the fellow's title gave way to much weight and even prestige, yet the words dripped of fear and anguish. 

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harriet, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went. . . bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was. . . "  
Hagrid gulped but no words came out - Harriet could taste the fright the man exuded, but she did not care (impatience gnarled at her).

"Was...?"  
Harriet pushed gently, wanting the giant to just answer her question.  
She understood that his character was supposed to build a reputation to the next character being introduced and it wasn't his fault that he was just following his script but Harriet felt a desperate _need _to know.

"All right...Voldemort..." Hagrid shuddered, "Just-just don't say his name, Harriet... I told yeh cuz you can't just go out ter Hogwarts without knowing but... Just don't say his name, yeah?"

Harriet rose an eyebrow at the weird name and figured she would do more research and see if she could find the reason for Hagrid's fear (well, she would if her curiosity and interest doesn't die out by the next day). 

Harriet settled on a content smile, the play was becoming even more interesting - and here she'd thought that Hagrid was just some extra, turned out he might be useful. He seemed like the type to know important information without knowing just _how _important it was or even how to safeguard it properly. Talk about a goldmine of opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty then  
[1] if you're wondering why Hagrid hasn't gone off on a whole rant about Harry being the Boy-Who-Lived and about his dead parents - well, that's because, in the original, the only reason Hagrid did was that Harry showed signs of not knowing. Also, Harry had encouraged Hagrid to speak because he was curious - but in this fanfic, she feels satisfied with the info Petunia and Vernon gave her and doesn't care to ask. Nor does she show obvious signs of not knowing to spur Hagrid on his rant. Hope that clears up some stuff.  
[2] if you're wondering why Hagrid didn't speak about how horrible Voldemort was, well that's because, in the original, he only did that to distract Harry from Voldemort's name. He also did that because he also believed that Harry deserved to know who killed her parents. In this, he believes she already knows (because of Dumbledore's letter that Petunia a was supposed to give) but just doesn't know what the man goes by. He doesn't want her just going about calling the man Voldemort in public seeing as many people still suffer from trauma.  
[3]if you're wondering why we saw more of Dudley - that's easy, its because Harry didn't do much and Dudley was the one really affected by the whole incident  
[4]if you're wondering why Harry doesn't seem to be too invested in knowing about her parents and everything else - that's because right now she really doesn't care about anything. Yes, if you've read the tags then you know Harry's a Slytherin, but right now she doesn't have ANY ambition other than minding others business and being entertained (as I'm sure you've realized). Right now, she's more of a responder to everything around her (because she has no ambition).  
[5] if you're wondering why Petunia didn't get much screentime, that's because I believe she's too fear-struck to talk and I had nothing good for her to say... so yeah, that's pretty much it.
> 
> so yeah, that's basically the chapter. above I wanted to clear up why so many changes were the done when compared to the original and show that it wasn't just me being lazy (tho that was apart of the equation too...)  
if there are any questions just ask - if I have an answer, I'll respond (i have nothing better to do)
> 
> oh and if you're wondering why the spacing of this chap was so shitty - it's cuz i was kinda confused and jus... yeah, i forgot how to cuz for a while i was using this other app and dat had a different spacing technique, and now dat i came back to this - i was just confused.


	4. Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dudley is exposed to the magical world for the first time. Spoiler, he struggles a lot. 
> 
> Harry subtly (sort of) makes fun of him and good karma doesn't shine down on her, so people piss her off.
> 
> Harry finally meets someone she thinks is a 'freak' too. Good for her.
> 
> Hagrid is every bit the clueless giant we love. 
> 
> Harry doesn't understand what she means by wanting to meet Professor Quirrell and Dumbledore. She will regret that (just not in this chapter lol).
> 
> BONUS: The Dursleys' are still assholes

**| E X P O S U R E |**

Dudley had wanted his parents back.

He missed his mother's obnoxious perfume attacking his senses as she smothered him in kisses and warm hugs, missed her fussing over his every need and how attentive she always was. He missed his father's rough head pats followed by his signature 'good job, son', missed his random spring of daily life tips ("Come 'ere, son, let me tell you how to be successful" or "Come 'ere, son, let me tell you how to be _strong_"), missed how pride filled his eyes whenever he looked at Dudley. Most of all, Dudley missed them as a family, together, sitting around their dining table and simply chatting as they sipped tea or ate buttered toast.

And he never stopped missing them after that dreadful day the letters bombarded their simple, everyday, _normal _life. 

And he would probably never stop, he now concluded, he probably would never stop reminiscing about when they used to look at him as their beloved son. Nowadays, they only seemed to see a freak, an outsider - an _alien _that had invaded their life. A burden to them.

Even now, as they finally called for him after weeks of leaving him to suffer to his thoughts in isolation, they only saw a freak. It would never be normal again, all because he was a _freak _and the letters said so.

"Dudley," His mother finally spoke, gravely and serious (a tone she only reserved for freaks), "We have to talk."

He cringed internally. At that moment, all Dudley wished for was to be sucked into the ground, to vanish from the unyielding gaze of his parents that pierced through him.

They didn't expect him to answer. Or more accurately, they didn't care if he did.

The thought saddened him. But it was for the best because Dudley couldn't find it within himself to choke up the right words to placate or soothe his parents, to convince them that he _wasn't _a freak, to remind them that he was still Dudley - still Little Diddykins that they loved.

"You will be going to that school for freaks," Vernon said, there seemed to be some sort of pinkish tint to his skin that resembled a rash almost but Dudley didn't know what it could be, "And you will accompany the Freak-"

"_What_?!" Dudley exploded, shooting up from his chair in his shock, "No way! Dad, you can't _seriously_-"

"SHUT UP, BOY!" Vernon howled and Dudley instantly felt his self-loathing ambush him again (it was all his fault this was happening, _why did he have to be a freak_?), "Now listen to me, son, you will go to that damnable school but you will _not_ partake in any of their freakishness, you hear me?! If you get don't do anything then they will have no choice _but _to let you go."

Dudley wasn't exactly sure who the 'old fool' his father referred to was. But he sort of didn't care (they were _looking at_ him again! they were _talking _to him again! they believed he could get better!)

"Don't worry, Dudley," His name burnt like poison when she uttered it (she didn't call him '_Diddykins'_), "While you're off to that freak academy, your father and I will secure summer tutoring for you to catch up with your peers at your actual, _normal _school that you passed for."

She didn't seem so haunted anymore. 

"Okay..."

"Good."

Dudley supposed that was the end of all conversation. He wanted to stamp his feet and the unfairness, he was being good, so why couldn't they make an effort, too?! He knew he was a freak but he was still _Dudley Dursley_. But the smarter, 12-year old maturity that he rarely listened to reminded him to be patient with them. He was a freak (_bad_) and they were normal (_good_), it was only normal that they would need time to accept him again. He could be patient. After he escaped from the freaky school place that freaks went to, they would be back to normal and he would be normal too!

Lies. All lies that he whispered to himself in hopes of believing.

Deep down, he wasn't convinced.

-

They were disgusting, really.

Dudley had been stopped in his drowsy trot to the small hut's kitchen, his eyes bulging and his heart halting to a stop. There were the two freaks, casually chatting over two tiny brews of tea (which looked ridiculous next to the giant). It was such a normal activity, the Freak nibbling on cold sausage as the Giant animately talked, a large smile and too-wide grin. It _should've _been a normal activity (how could the freaks taint something so _good_?)

Freaks shouldn't be capable of normal. And yet, there they were acting as if nothing was wrong in the world.

Dudley hated them.

He hated all freaks.

(He hated himself).

He eyed the sausages enviously, knowing that the Freak would probably waste them (it never ate much anyway). But there was no way he was going over there and eat. No way he was going to interact with the freaks. By sharing their freakish space, it would be solidifying the fact (the undeniable, heartwrenching _fact_) that he was no better than the freaks.

So even as his stomach growled and cursed, a pang of hunger he never felt before attacking him - Dudley ignored the demands of his stomach for the first time, opting to stalk away in a worse mood than he'd entered. He'd rather eat later than eat _with _the freaks. He wouldn't want their freakishness to rub off on him.

The day was really shaping out to be just as horrid as he imagined.

-

Harriet quietly snickered as Dudley sneered at everyone and everything as he attempted to regulate his breathing and brush the sweat from his face. All throughout the trip, it had been a right challenge to keep up with Hagrid's long strides and, for Dudley and Harriet who wouldn't use to any exercise, it was a pretty difficult task to pull off. 

Harriet briefly wondered why they'd gone through all of that hustle and bustle of London's streets. Didn't Hagrid have magic? Shouldn't there be something to teleport or... something? Perhaps she was getting a bit ahead of herself, she didn't really know anything to do with magic other than the practical usage she'd taught herself, so shouldn't go about making assumptions. Plus she remembered Hagrid mentioning briefly that he wasn't allowed to use his magic.

Nonetheless, Harriet dreaded the trip back to the Dursley's.

The Leaky Cauldron, as Hagrid oh-so-fondly introduced, was some hole-in-the-wall, dark and shabby pub that was the apparent entrance to where they'd purchase their goods. Personally, it didn't seem like a place she'd enjoy.

It would appear Dudley agreed, seeing as he'd just hissed at an old woman who'd made the mistake of looking at him too long.

Dudley hadn't been happy to accompany them, but it wasn't like he was offered a choice in the matter. He'd been sulkily pouting and glaring at everything, like the petulant toddler Harriet knew him to truly be. 

At first, it had been mildly amusing, perhaps even entertaining to an extent, but it got old soon. 

Harriet wondered when the twelve-going-on-three boy was ever going to truly grow up.

-

The attention of almost everyone aimed at their little trio was not welcomed.

Harriet had never been one to bask in the spotlight. While Dudley was tense and hissing like a moody cat, she climbed atop a stool and perched herself comfortably as Hagrid greeted the bartender. She wasn't interested.

She was getting bored. And _fast_.

She'd hoped the trip would be entertaining or at least something worth remembering but so far it was a saddening let-down. 

She was just about to doze off, her eyes drooping behind her large spectacles when her name wrenched her from the soothing darkness of sleep, "-Harry Potter...what an honour."

Pardon?

Sleepily swiping at her eyes, she recoiled as the stranger hurried from behind the bar and grasped her hands, tears gathering in their eyes. She jumped away, feeling her skin itchy and her heart clawing up her throat, she wanted to puke. _Who was this person and why were they touching her?_

_"_Oh, uh, sorry!" The man cried, "I didn't mean to! It's just - I'm so happy to meet you, finally, Ms Potter. Welcome back!"

Disgusting.

What a truly pathetic display. 

By a stranger no less.

Harry averted her eyes to Hagrid who was beaming and Dudley who seemed just as grossed out as her.

Her smile was grotesque and fake, forced and like sugary acid. The curves of her lips hurt as if she'd taken a knife and carved it herself.

She wanted this to end.

Everyone was shamelessly looking now (_she hated attention_).

It was a moment too long on her part, there was the scrape of chairs and the next thing she knew - she was being swarmed by a plague of strangers, who invaded her little space and shook her hands without thought. They were relentless in their pursuit, tugging her from person to person, her head swirling at the fast-paced events as her mind attempted to _(and failed to)_ keep up. 

_What was going on_?

The plague of disgusting insects (they were worst than flies) had managed to push Dudley to the back of the room as they each attempted to grab her attention. If this was to go on for any longer - she would have no choice but to forego all pretences. They seemed to know and like her for whatever reason, but she was sure that once her smile dropped, they wouldn't like her any longer.

Just as her lips dipped into a frown, the beginning of a sneer appearing - something interesting happened.

Finally.

-

A pale young man tittered forward, one of his eyes twitching. 

Harry could feel it, deep in her very _soul, _he was an interesting character - essential to a rather elaborate play. 

"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid boomed with a supportive smile, "Harry, this is Professor Quirrell, he's one of ya teachers at Hogwarts."

She would have to keep an eye on him.

There was something about him that made her blood _sing_. 

What was so special about him? He didn't look like much.

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "C-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."

In fact, he was kind of _annoying (what was so special about him?)_

She needed to know. "What magic do you teach?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

How annoying.

He was actually pretty pathetic. A lot like the other scum hanging around the Leaky Cauldron.

So why did his hand seem to send a surge through her? Like a thrum of something _dark _and _powerful_. She nearly purred in response.

There was something _off _with Professor Quirell, but at least she would get to observe him during her stay at Hogwarts. 

She wanted to _unravel him_. 

He promised an interesting play. 

-

"What was _that_?!" Dudley shrilled once they'd escaped from the clutches of the annoying leeches.

Harry would like to know, too. 

"Yer don't know?" 

"Know what?" Harry asked, curious as ever, "What don't we know?"

"Yer famous, Harry," Hagrid grinned, "Yer the Girl-Who-Lived."

..._What_?

"Gulpin' gargoyles," Hagrid exhaled with wide eyes, "What _did_ those Dursley's tell ya? Yer don't know?"

Harry just wanted him to hurry up and tell her."No."

"When You-Know-Who showed up at yer house that night," Hagrid took a deep breath in as if it physically pained him to speak, "He disappeared, all that was left was yer lightning scar and yer parents. Nobody knows what happened ter him, or what happened that night. All we know is he disappeared, Harry. Ol' hags will tell ya he's coming back, bidding his time but his ol' followers broke from their trance and rejoined da light. I say he's not dead - nothing lefta kill if yer asks me, but he's too weak to carry on - ya know?"

That was actually... pretty interesting. 

Petunia and Vernon hadn't told her that, all she'd learned from them was that her parents died due to getting caught up in the 'wrong crowd'. Their misinformation shouldn't have surprised her. 

"So... I'm the 'Girl-Who-Lived' because I survived the attempt on our lives that night?" Harry clarified. 

"Basically, yes. Yer the only one ter survive the killing curse."

(_...killing curse..?)_

"Huh," That surely gave her a lot to think about. So many questions, but there was quite some time for her to unravel all the mysteries concerning her oddly shaped scar and her miraculous survival, "So does the wizarding world have a... fetish for hyphens or something?"

Hagrid barked a laugh.

Dudley looked constipated, his brows furrowed in distress and a nasty scowl stretching his fat cheeks. He didn't say anything (he was still determined to not get 'contaminated' by their 'freakishness') but Harry could tell he was thinking hard. Or at least, he was _trying _to think hard.

Typical bully character trope - there honestly wasn't anything special concerning him. 

What a bore.

-

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have Someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook! Oh and Guggos, there's a muggleborn with them."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the plot twist. Here she'd thought they were only supposed to retrieve money from her 'vault' and the vault designated for scholarships. Now, she was hearing about something important that involved that guy again, Dumbledore. She was sure whatever Hagrid was attempting to be subtle about was incredibly important or interesting. 

The day was looking up for the better. 

A drastic transformation from the mess that was the Leaky Cauldron. 

"What's the You-Know-What?" Harry inquired innocently.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Interesting. Very interesting.

It could be something boring, Harry acknowledged the possibility, but her gut told her otherwise.

That Albus Dumbledore guy must've been super important to be in the centre of many elaborate plots and plays - he was a central character that happened to tie many other characters together. She kinda wanted to meet him. She hoped he wasn't a let-down who turned out to be boring in the end.

"Oh okay-" Harry gave a dejected sigh, "I understand."

She caught his guilty expression and nearly cackled.

-

It was easy to acknowledge that you were no longer the same person you once was.

Sure, Harriet would always be herself but she was no longer the girl without a penny to her name and solely relied on the wages of the Dursley's.

It was a whole 'nother thing to watch it right in front of your eyes. Watch proof of it in all its glittering glory, cascading mountains of gold and silver and bronze, of fanciful pennies of intricate metal design all in a shower of wealth. Watch magical items scattered around the gold wonderland, some buried in riches and others sitting atop them like kings. _See _the priceless jewels studding the ground, as if it was simply everyday coins abandoned on the street.

The Potter Vault.

Harry's last name wasn't for show, after all, it was actually _worth _something.

The time they spent there was short and comprised of Harry gathering galleons into a magically endless pouch she'd found _(her first magical item!) _and asking questions to her family's designated accountant, Griphook. She paid special attention to act like a curious and excited child while purposefully phrasing questions to not sound suspicious which would alert Hagrid of her ulterior motives. 

Or, and much worse, he would repeat whatever he heard to his player - to his king, he was a simple pawn and bound to tattle. That was simply his role, after all. 

She also made sure to shoot Dudley a shit-eating grin.

_(What an envious boy)._

The last thing they did was go to exchange whatever money the Dursley's had given Dudley. 

Except, they hadn't. Just like Harry had _known _they would.

So, like the good little pawn she was fully prepared to parade herself to be, she smiled and promised she would pay for all of Dudley's school fees.

(_**All for a price of course. Not that the little pig would know he's paying**)._

_-_

The uniform fittings hadn't been so bad.

It had been entertaining and the play had even introduced a new character - Draco Malfoy. 

Just a few moments prior, Hagrid had opted to split with them at the entrance of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. As soon as he'd left, Dudley had almost immediately kicked up a fuss, unfortunately for him - Harriet hadn't been in the mood for a pity party and set him straight with a zap of her condensed magic. He stilled after that, returning to his sulky behaviour. 

"Hello," A boy had said, all lazy drawl spoken with smooth practice and grace, "Hogwarts, too?"

Red truly wasn't a flattering shade on Dudley's face. 

"_Don't talk to me_, Freak!" Dudley hissed, fist raised and ready to strike - he was like a scared wild animal, it was amusing in a way.

"Now, now, Dudley," Harry flashed an apologetic look to the boy, "I apologize on his behalf, my cousin is still reeling from his impromptu introduction to the magical world."

It seemed this wasn't the right thing to say - the unfamiliar boy reacted as if he'd been burnt, "You're _muggleborns_?"

Harry had to think. She wasn't exactly sure what 'muggle-borns' were but she'd heard Hagrid refer to the Dursley's and other non-magic people as 'muggles'. Paired with the word 'born', especially in the context used - she was pretty sure she knew what it meant. And she'd heard the goblins of Gringotts refer to Dudley as one. Why it was such a problem was the true cause of her confusion.

"What's wrong with being a muggleborn?" 

"Typical," The blonde sneered (he reminded her of Dudley but eloquent), "You muggle-borns don't know _anything_. My dad says you come into _our _world and endanger _us_ just by your existence! You're not a _real _wizard if you're a _mudblood_."

Interesting. The last thing he mentioned was clearly a slur and not simply some random insult he created on the spot. 

Harriet would think about what he said later because Dudley was-!

Dudley launched himself at the boy with an angry screech, "I don't wanna be in you Freaks' world, anyway! I don want to be a freak!"

He was a sight to behold, really. His face resembling a rather red plum, his eyes burning with hate and his fist cocked with purpose.

-

Everything was closing into each other and his heartbeat was a tune of justice and strength, sang of wars to fight and the need to do right by his values. Everything was spinning, but the path to the infuriating boy was still and reassuring - Dudley _would _prove his superiority over the freak, it was in his nature (the nature of a _normal_ person) to do so, to put the freak in its place!

His father's voice whispered in encouragement, adding an urgency to his strike, to his righteous anger. 

His mother's hollow form flickered around him, his failure as a son and disappointment gripping him tightly and refusing to let go - it spurned on his violent thrashing, his _need _to get even, to _prove _he wasn't a freak (he wasn't, dammit!).

One second he was trembling in his spot in restrained anger - his self-loathing (aren't I a freak, a disappointment, too?), his guilt (if it weren't for my freakishness...), his **_fear_**(what is going? I'm alone. alone in the freak's world. why isn't anything _normal_?) were chains that kept him rooted. But he was so afraid and scared that he'd just moved right on to fury. The next second he was in front of the blonde, his skin tingling with _something _he'd never experienced and a rather volatile wrath.

A needle pricked him.

Then twelve, sinking into the base of his skull.

Then twenty.

Then everything was skidding to a halt, he felt his insides crumple, the strange feeling from before lashing out and then next thing he knew-

darkness and a knife piercing his chest.

-

Harry sighed - oh how interesting it would've been to watch as Dudely started his stupid fight. It would've at least been _entertaining_.

On the other hand, there was the boy, and he'd been frozen in fear and paler than his already white complexion. How disappointing. 

He talked so big and barked so loud, but his bite had yet to show.

Harriet didn't like getting involved but something told her that she'd taken the right route. Her display should've sent a message, how the boy interpreted was none of her concern, and Harriet would've then had to explain _why _she hadn't gotten involved when Dudley went all feral. In his rush to attack, he'd pushed off the poor employee who'd been pinning his robes.

The adults hadn't reacted so quickly as they'd been to focus on calling after their fallen comrade. Harriet hoped her show of magic conveyed her simply message clearly - 

'_I can._'

She intercepted because she _could_, she'd **_saved _**him because she could, she showed him her magic because she had wanted to. 

The truth of the matter was, she hadn't needed to make it clear that she'd used her magic on Dudley - but she'd wanted the pale boy to _know_.

It was a pride thing, really.

-

"Malfoy," The boy had told her after everything sorted itself out, "Draco Malfoy."

"Harriet Potter," She ignored his slack jaw, "Though everyone takes it upon themselves to call me 'Harry'."

She left before he could say anymore, whisked away into the bustle of the crowded street. 

-

"I don't know what happened if I'm being honest," Harriet remembered herself saying with all the innocence of a newborn babe, "I think the whole magic thing has been getting to him, you know? Bloody hell! It's been getting to me, much less Dudley. He's a right git, always has been, but still a little boy, you know?"

"I guess," Hagrid said with a soft smile as he readjusted Dudley's prone form on his shoulder, "You're a good person, Harry."

Harriet wondered how he'd come to such a farfetched conclusion.

She also wondered if there wasn't any magical spell or potion that could get Dudley back on his feet. But apparently not, seeing as Hagrid hauled the little pig like a sack of potatoes.

The shopping continued from there.

-

The little snowy owl was beautiful in a graceful and equally fierce way, she was perched in her cage with all the elegance a caged bird could muster as she judged everyone with watchful, intelligent eyes. She was perfect.

Harriet hadn't needed to look around the shop any more - the snowy owl was the one.

.

The old man came closer, reaching out his doddery hand to Harriet's face -

The man was strange. 

A freak, really. 

His misty eyes of liquid silver spoke of experience and... knowing or was that understanding?

(_What do you know? What are your secrets? What do you understand?)_

Harry did not hide from his touch.

He was a freak, too. Just like her.

He wasn't a simple maggot unlike those she'd seen at the Leaky Cauldron.

Still, she loathed when others invaded her personal space.

-

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -- I wonder, now - - yes, why not -- unusual combination -- holly and phoenix feather, twelve inches, nice and supple."

This was the one, Harriet knew from the moment her fingers came touched the wand - electricity bit ferally at her and at the same time, a warmth enveloped her starting from the base of her fingertips and spreading throughout her body. When her magic entwined with it and automatically lashed out violently yet controlled in a stream of silver and gold sparks and fizzed out like fireworks - Harriet had never been surer.

This was the one for her. The only one for her.

"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... " Mr Olivander put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..."

"What's so curious?" Harry inquired, staring longingly at the box. 

Mr Olivander's pale stare was piercing as if he could see through Harry's very _soul_.

It was uncomfortable yet thrilling all at once.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Ms Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why its brother gave you that scar."

Well, wasn't that interesting.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Ms Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great."

Harry seriously needed to start reading up on the Voldemort guy - he seemed interesting at the very least. 

Harry had never been one for history, but she could make an exception.

-

Dudley awoke like a fish out of water, a foreign body of _warmth _spreading throughout him - the source from his forehead. He gasped, his eyes wide and frantic, searching for any threat.

His eyes landed on the giant, and then to the freaky old man and then to the Freak, who smiled like a shark, with too many teeth and an evil glint in her green eyes. Flashes of the pale, blonde boy bombarded him but most importantly, he could still _feel _whatever had caused him to pass out before. It was in the very air. It had to be their freakiness, had to be their freaky 'magic'. 

He scrambled away, colliding into bookcases and other foreign (_freaky_) objects. 

"Take me back!" He growled to the giant, "Take me back right now! Just... just _take me back_!"

Everything was spinning again, the walls were closing in, why - why couldn't he _breathe_?

It had to be the Freak's fault. It always was.

Then a wooden stick gently pressed to his forehead, and he felt himself go limp, like a balloon shrivelling from loss of air, his heart calming like a train losing steam. 

"You okay, Dudley?" The Freak asked, but he could hear the mockery and taunting dripping from its tone and see it in its eyes. 

He hated it.

Hated the Freak. 

(_Why was he so weak?_)

"What a springy fellow," The freaky old man with eyes like ghosts said, "A muggleborn, I see."

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"

_(Why was this happening? Where was he? What was happening?!)_

The man twirled a short stick and suddenly the mess Dudley had made was repairing themselves, there was no one who picked up freakish ornamental brushes and wood, no - the woods floated back onto shelves and the brushes slowly waddled into cups. Dudley felt his jaw drop and-

(_breathbreathebreathbreathBreAtheBReathe**BREATHE**_)

The giant scowled, "Knew yer was gonna be ah handful, Dursley!" He came closer and closer and Dudley shrank away until he was stuck between a wall and the imposing freak that towered like mountains (_why couldn't they leave him alone?_). "Come 'ere, Dursley," The man reached out and dug his large hands into Dudley's shoulder, pulling him closer and manhandling him to walk back to where the ghostly man and the Freak stood. 

Against his will, Dudley's heart slowed and strange warmth he'd felt ceased. He didn't know why (_he did_)_. _Hagrid - the freak giant, was nothing like his father at all, sure he was big and strong, sure his cheeks flared like a cherry when mad and he said... (_"Come 'ere, boy, you gotta face your fears somehow-"_) - but he was a freak(_bad_) and Vernon Dudley, his strong and caring father, was normal (_good_). 

Dudley hated Hagr- the freak. He hated the freak giant. 

"Try this," The man with ghost eyes that glinted manically called for attention, a different stick, "Chestnut and unicorn hair - justice bound, curious boy. Eight and a half inches, stiff, unyielding. Try it."

The little wooden stick was shoved into his hands without his say-so (_this never would've happened back home_), "Back off, freak-!" He shrilled but his voice died in his throat as a warmth that was slowly becoming more and more familiar to him appeared. It was a throbbing at the back of his head, it was fiery but gentle and soothing, it exploded out of him like a whip lashing out and a small bubble expanded from the tip of the stick (_he refused to call it a 'wand'_) and slowly began to encase him until the bubble had surrounded him and shield him from the others.

He didn't panic, surprisingly. 

It was an obnoxious throbbing but a soothing warmth - it smothered him but protected him. 

It was home, his mother to be specific, spreading her long, stick-like arms and rushing to him with a small smile and bright brown eyes. It was her embrace.

He wanted to go home.

(_Why couldn't the freaks leave him alone_)

"Perfect!" The eccentric, old freak grinned ear-to-ear, "This is the wand for you, little Dudley Dursley."

_'Nothing is perfect. Not anymore.'_

_-_

The Dursley's moved back to the little house on 4 Privet Drive. 

Harriet hoarded herself into her little cupboard _(it was her safe place, it was familiar),_ moving all her magical books with her. 

For the rest of the month, she drowned herself in books and information. 

-

A quick note to herself:

Harry would need to visit Diagon Alley on her lonesome, without anyone painting the wizarding world in a rigid image. She would need to visit all the places she missed and all the little nooks and crannies.

But that would have to wait. 

She was only a month in, she could wait. 

(_Plus she wanted to learn glamour magic first, she needed to disguise herself so a repeat of the Leaky Cauldron wouldn't happen)._

For that year, Harriet would observe those around her and then make her move.

She would have to be patient.

But she was the observer, the spectator - patience was her middle name. 

-

Albus Dumbledore.

To quote Mr Olivander: "Curious, curious..."

Albus Dumbledore was at the centre of Harriet's current main source of entertainment - Magical Britain. 

He was at the centre of many plots. Politically inclined yet played modest in the eyes of the public, a figurehead of peace and protection, founder and leader of the instrumental 'Order of Pheonix' (which Lily and James Potter were apart of). He bested a dark lord and then aided tremendously with the second and most tyrannical one to date - Voldemort. 

But by far his greatest achievement, in Harry's eyes, was his role as Headmaster. A place that successfully guarded him and allowed him full access to mold upcoming witches. 

Harry could not forget that Hagrid mentioned that it was _Albus Dumbledore _who ordered him to send Harry to the Dursley's. Curious, indeed.

He was everywhere you looked, impossible to forget. 

He was beloved by most of the wizarding population (_protected_), a political powerhouse _(smart) _and a war hero (_powerful_). 

Harry would bet five galleons he wasn't _exactly _who the public played him off as. It was only expected.

No person was truly themselves on stage, every character represented a part of themselves when they wear masks, but their true self is only revealed at two times. The first being the obvious: backstage. The second being at the end of the play, at the end of the plot, at the end of a resolution is when a character fails to hide their true self.

Albus Dumbledore was intriguing and bound to be interesting. 

_Would he be:_

_ interesting and entertaining_

_ or interesting and annoying?_

Oh how Harriet wished it to be the former, she hated when potentially interesting characters are wasted. 

Plus, she held a personal interest in him (_sort of, she still wasn't completely sure about how she felt about Hagrid's revelation - she would need more information)._

She would just have to wait and see what sort of character Dumbledore would prove to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok.
> 
> so this chapter is done. finally.
> 
> i kinda got lost down the rabbit hole of naruto fanfics and needed to THEN read hp fanfics to get back my inspiration on this. so yay i guess
> 
> In this, I wanted to show how uncomfortable Harry is by her Girl-Who-Lived status and by so many people assuming things about her and invading her personal space. 
> 
> That whole thing with Quirrell was her Horcrux acting up and responding to Voldemort - tho I'm pretty sure you probably figured that out.
> 
> I kinda wanted her to go back and visit Diagon Alley but it didn't matter - not in the grand scheme of things, so i'll wait just as much as Harry. this chapter just wasn't the right time.
> 
> I also kind of wanted to give a glimpse of just how much of a 'not good' person Harry is. I would also like to give an IMPORTANT REMINDER that Harry doesn't live by rules - she simply does what she wants and how she feels to act. Un-slytherin like, sure, but that's just her ideology of being superior to others because she is a 'freak' 
> 
> I truly wanted to create an unpredictable character and that's what Harry is. If she feels like acting as a golden girl now, that doesn't mean she will in the future. it all comes down to how she feels.
> 
> Also, her 'ulterior motives' as of the moment is rather bleak - she just wants to learn everything about the world she just realized existed. And she's still unmotivated, nosy af, Harriet.
> 
> And finally - Dudley's a pretty complex character and IS going to be pretty important later on. Right now, he's confused - he hates himself, hates freaks, sort of hates his parents for ignoring him but then boils back down to hating himself. He's not mentally stable at the moment, and Harry mocking him isn't making him feel better. So there.
> 
> On another note for Dudley, his wand-
> 
> So I know no one will probably interested in this note but like I put research and energy in this so its important to me.  
Dudley's wand has Chestnut wood because its curious, multi-faceted and the user usually has a lot of personality. they are also concerned with things of justice 
> 
> His core is Unicorn cuz it's the most common and Dudley is pretty average wizard wise, AND they're pretty faithful wands which match Dudley's personality. 
> 
> And finally, the wand length. Dudley has an unusually short wand (why does it feel like an innuendo when I write this) - which is because short wands fit those whose personality lacks something (allegedly) and users may try to conceal what they don't like about themselves. Once users accept these characteristics about themselves, the wand improves in performance. So Dudley has a long way to go.
> 
> So yh, if you read this, that's all.


	5. Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco starts to grasp the freak he just invited into his life, Harriet sits back and watches as Dudley burns everything around him. 
> 
> Oh, and Dudley gets knocked unconscious again. 
> 
> NOTE: I feel like this chapter was pretty short but it got what it needed done so whatever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROVERBS 25:28
> 
> "A man without self-control  
is like a city broken into and left without walls."
> 
> &
> 
> PROVERBS 21:23
> 
> "Whoever keeps his mouth and tongue  
keeps himself out of trouble"

**W E L C O M E**

It was an uncomfortable snake coiling and slithering around his bowels, a swirling mass of dread that refused to leave him. Cool winds breeze past him, the rumbling engine of his father's car in the far distance behind him, (normal) people bustling and going about their business, sweaty palms and the weight of his luggage. In front of him was doom wrapped prettily and unassuming. In front of him lay the freaks in their freak little world. 

Mind you, Dudley could not see the freaks as of yet. But he could feel them, the hiss of 'magic' and freakishness in the back of his mind. 

He just had to survive a year. Then everything would go back to normal.

-

Dudley would be her guinea pig.

Now, Harry had questioned (read: interrogated) Hagrid on the exact location of her transportation and she'd even found tidbits of information in some of her textbooks. Nonetheless, she didn't exactly like the idea of squashing her face into a pancake all because 'big, friendly and dumb' had mixed up the instructions. No thank you.

So she would leave it to Dudley. 

If Dudley, of all people, was successful then surely it was safe. 

On the other hand, Dudley didn't need to know she was second-guessing the giant's words.

-

"Hurry it up, Dudley," Harriet said softly, expression chipper and eyes buzzing with excitement, "I do not wish to be late."

It was a threat. This he knew.

No matter the pureness of its smile and rosy cheeks, he could feel its magic writhing like a pit of snakes beneath its skin, its magic tightly coiled and baring fangs like daggers ready to strike at a moment's notice. He knew to comply without complain (_but he wanted to stamp his foot and turn around and run back home and- and forget this whole magic business-!_)

He wilted (_like he always did_) and staggered foreward, cold sweat trickling down the sides of his rather rounded cheeks. 

He faced the wall. 

The very solid wall. 

He hesitated. "Are you-"

Harry's foot lashed out, too fast for him to react and all of a sudden, the world was spinning and he was spiralling down and through the wall as he wailed at the top of his lungs. He crashed into the ground on the other side, the whole left side of his face scratched and turning a shade of purple. 

He groaned, cursing as he rose and-

And then he stared. Jaw slack and form still, as his head swerved one way and then the next. He wasn't at King's Cross anymore, no - here the mass of overwhelming energy was smothering him from all sides. A fluffy white cat walked right past his face, the hoots of owls blended into the cacaphony of students buzzing about. Right above was a large red sign with the words 'Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock' scribbled in striking gold letters. 

His thoughts stuttered to a stop.

Someone pointed and laughed loudly, drawing the attention of a few others who also snickered and snorted, the chilling whisper of 'mudblood' and 'muggleborn' seemed to pass over the crowd as judgemental eyes found him. He wanted to yell at them to look away, to stamp his foot and scream at them at the top of his lungs, wanted to aim curses at them and... (_he wanted to curl into himself and hide_). 

But then Harry gracefully sauntered pass him with a giggle like windchimes and an air of confidence following it. 

The judging eyes and laughter redirected. 

He should be happy, should be relieved, perhaps even thankful. 

He wasn't.

-

"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry muttered to herself as her trunk floated atop the carriage. 

She giggled at Dudley's startled jump and the stubborn scowl adorning his bruised face.

-

Harriet had chosen to sleep off the length of the trip whilst Dudley brooded in his corner, as far away as the compartment would allow him to sit. Harriet didn't mind, she hadn't wished to be anywhere near him, thank you very much. 

The compartment was fairly spacious and left them with enough room to be comfortable, this remained true even though Dudley took up more space than the average twelve-year-old. Harriet was thankful for this as she wasn't someone who particularly enjoyed others in her personal space. 

Harry huffed.

She couldn't sleep. It was strange, she supposed, usually, she could never get _enough _sleep and yet here she was, unable to properly doze off. 

It was because of Hogwarts and the discovery of the Magical World, of course. Even though she'd been aware of its existence for a bit over a month, she still couldn't seem to properly overcome her excitement. Magic, a name given to her freakishness, was wonderful and splendid to read about. Harriet had bought more books than necessary and yet her thirst for knowledge, her _hunger _to devour everything and absolutely anything concerning the newly revealed world was so, _so _all-consuming of her everyday life. 

Harriet couldn't remember ever feeling like this. 

(_Lies. She could **never forget Jack**_)

It was like a splash of colour over her parody of life, a rainbow of anticipation and emotion like she'd never felt before painting over her previous bleak existence. 

Harriet would not let this opportunity slide. So even if she had to act as the perfect little Girl-Who-Lived to thoroughly sate her hunger to consume everything around her, Harriet would do so willingly. Everyone was oh-so-willing to reveal information when she was parading as their little golden girl. A few wide smiles and hopeful, wide green eyes and they would crack. 

And Harry's hunger ran _deep_, at the front of her mind and refusing to leave. 

She still had so many questions after all, and she would learn the answers to them. One way the other, no matter what she had to do to get what she wanted.

-

"I heard Harriet Potter was in this compartment?" 

Ah, the same blonde boy from the clothing shop. He'd made yet another appearance.

He strode in like he was invited, clothed in confidence and elegance. Harry giggled in amusement as his eyes flickered to her nervously despite his self-assured disposition. 

Behind him were two large, burly boys only a tad smaller than Dudley. They were sizing her and Dudley up, flexing their nonexistent muscles and lips stretched into a nasty sneer. They didn't look like much, though. Actually, scratch that, they were shocking on the basis of looking _dumber than Dudley_. Harriet hadn't thought that possible, but somehow the two boys managed it.

She felt the need to clap.

So she did, giggling all the way like an over-excited child. 

"What are _you_ laughing at?" The boy, Draco (if she remembered correctly), said. 

"Your bodyguards look dumber than a certain pig I know," She grinned at him, flashing far too many teeth, a cruel glint in her green eyes, "A feat not many people can claim to accomplish."

One of the boys attempted to stumble forward, like a maddened bull on the prowl, but Draco held his (perfectly-manicured) hand up, "No. Stand back."

Oh?

"So you are _actually _Harriet Potter," Draco said with a cocked blonde eyebrow, "As I'm sure you remember, I am Draco Malfoy... It would be a pleasure to be acquainted with you, Potter."

He wanted to be friends with her? (_What did he really want_?)

"I'm sure it would be, Malfoy," Harry had read something about this in one of her books. Names were really important in wizarding culture, especially first names. It was safer to acknowledge him by his last name. But she'd read about the Malfoy family, and knew he would be a good ally (_she also knew she could play him like a fiddle_), "But call me Harriet. I'm sure we'll get along fine."

His jaw dropped for a second before slamming shut again, his eyes wide but he cleared his throat with a barely noticeable rosy tint to his otherwise pale cheeks, "R-right! Then call me Draco, too."

"Mmh," Harry hummed, "So are you going to take a seat? I'm sure you don't plan to spend all your time standing there, right?"

Draco turned his eyes to Dudley, a hesitant falter in step before sitting opposite Harry, "Of course not. Crabbe, Goyle, take a seat."

The two meatheads shouldered into the compartment.

Draco was an overexcited pup, intelligent and rather elegant but all too easy to read. His emotions all displayed like an open book, he followed a script that Harry knew by heart and held no _actual _views of his own. Every time he said something, it usually started with "My Father said" or ended with "At least that's what Father said." Annoying but nothing a bit of time couldn't solve.

...Not that Harriet was sure she _wanted _to help him.

But if she truly planned to use him, he would be utilized better under_ her _influence and not his father. His father was a lot like the Dursley's in that regard. Only focused on 'training' and force-feeding premeditated opinions and views on their children. They would trap their children in small little boxes, a black and white lens enforced since birth and their children mentally weak because of it. 

Weakness. 

A horrible disease, really. 

Her lips curled in distaste as Draco rambled on something about the Ministry, his eyes passionate but too naive for his cynical rant, and no lethal venom laced his tongue despite his poisonous words.

Perhaps she _would _help Draco open his eyes. 

-

Dudley looked longingly at the cart of delicious (_freakish_) treats, chocolates and candies - he'd been practically drooling at the smell of it all. 

But his parents hadn't given him any money _("Money for those freaks?! We wouldn't let those freaks steal any more of our money! Not a_ cent!") and there was no way in hell he was asking the Freak for any of her gold coins. No way!

So he sat back down, patted his stomach as it cried futilely for sweets and resumed his glaring. He made a point of not looking at the blonde boy who was eating a chocolate frog or the Freak who was nibbling on a biscuit that would change colour every odd second - red to green, green to purple and back again. Freaks with their freak food.

Dudley didn't even _want _their freakish snacks anyway!

(_Yes he did_). 

-

"Can you believe that, Harriet?" Draco continued his long-winded rant, taking a quick second to delicately bite off the head of his frog, "Father says that the Ministry is a load of-"

The compartment door slid open, a girl stepped forward having already changed into her Hogwarts robes. She was a firsty like them.

"Have you seen a toad, by any chance?" She asked, a hand on her hip and stern dark eyes, "Neville's lost his."

Harry spied a sneer crossing Draco's face and knew what would be following. She supposed it _could _be interesting, though it all came down to if the girl was an important character and how she would react - thinking back to the girl's rather bossy tone, Harriet thought she knew how it would play out.

"What? Those muggle parents of yours didn't teach you any manners? Think you're too good to _knock_?" His slow, dismissive drawl was back and his eyes lazily travelled over the girl, judging her with keen eyes, "Typical of you, _mudblood_."

"W-what did you just call me?!" The girl fumed, a furious red colouring her cheeks, "You don't even _know_ me! That's a slur!"

"It's the truth," He was rather hard-hitting when he wanted to be, intense blue eyes sharp and piercing, "Your filthy muggle blood doesn't deserve to be part of our world. You mudbloods always think you know _everything _but you're no better than trolls disguised as witches and wizards!"

Was that something he heard from his father as well? 

Nonetheless, Harriet was a tad interested. Not in how it would turn out, the outcome was rather predictable, but about the insight she could gain. None of her books had spoken about the subject of 'mudbloods' except to recognize it as an 'unforgivable slur' that isn't acceptable in modern society. Which was weird because everywhere Harry looked, there seemed to be at least _one _person using said 'unforgivable slur' like it's common talk. 

Harriet wanted to know exactly what was wrong with muggleborns to garner such bad attention in the first place. 

Was it simply the fear of the unknown? That would be rather boring.

Or could it be a grudge held from since muggles were still stoning magical-folk?

Harriet wanted to know. 

So she would learn. And Draco was perfect insight - typical pureblood, father works in the Ministry, prejudiced against muggleborns with a passion but also easy to gain information from. How perfect he was, almost like he was tailored made for her purposes.

"You inbred little prat!" The girl screeched, eyes burning with anger and tears. She rushed out not a second later, face awfully red and nails digging into her own skin. 

Harriet couldn't help but not like the girl, she was oh-so _weak_. 

If the girl couldn't take a bit of insult then she wasn't ready for life.

-

Dudley didn't know how to feel. 

On one hand, that 'Draco' freak was a prat and Dudley hated him. The blonde git was in the obvious wrong, the freak was treating the bushy-haired freak just like how the git had treated him in the store! What even _was _a mudblood? Not that it mattered anyway, it was probably just some lame freak word that the freaks made-up. Dudley wouldn't let it get to him. 

On the other hand, that girl was a freak just like the rest of them and therefore didn't warrant the same rights _normal_ humans did. So who cares if she was being picked on for being whatever a 'mudblood' is? She was a freak and that was exactly the type of treatment his parents had thought Dudley to combat freakishness. 

But was it the same act of justice if it were _freaks_ who initiated the fight against _freaks_?

(_The blonde prat had called him the same thing too... and at the station was the same thing. They'd all called him.. **"Mudblood"**_)

(_He kind of felt _sorry _for that girl... She had looked normal enough to him_)

(_She looked like him_).

-

He felt like he was suffocating; like a feathery pillow was shoved in his face and refused to allow any oxygen through. 

_Tap_. His chubby finger beat down on his clothed knee.

Everywhere he looked, there was something freakish, something weird and otherworldly, something _wrong_. Be it the outrageously comfortable seating, the four freaks conversing next to him whilst acting like he didn't even exist to the snacks they bought with their weird money. Everything that was 'normal' was thrown out the window and replaced by an eerie, alien substitute. 

They didn't wear normal clothing, they didn't speak like normal kids their age should and they definitely didn't act normal. 

_Tap_.

They weren't right. They were all freaks.

_Tap_.

He was in the Freak's World and wasn't sure if he could survive it till he could meet his parents again. 

_Tap. Tap._

"Did you hear about Gringotts?" Draco asked, "It's all over the Daily Prophet."

They didn't have normal banks (_they had **goblins **for bankers!_) and Dudley didn't even know what the 'Daily Prophet' was! Why couldn't they make sense?! Why couldn't they be normal? Why did freaks have to exist? Why...

(_Why did he have to be a freak?_)

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

_Tap. Tap Tap Tap._

"No, I _live _with muggles, _Draco._"

'Muggles', Dudley hated that word, it was an invisible force that weighed down on his shoulders, a poisonous deception of 'normal', an attempt to discredit the _right_. A word the freaks created to push labels upon _normal _people to make themselves feel better about themselves. Vernon and Petunia were _not _'muggles'! They were _normal _and right and _good_! Piers, Gordan and Dennis weren't 'muggles', they were _normal!_

(_Who were the freaks to taint the name of normal people?_)

_Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap. Tap Tap Tap. _

_Tap Tap Tap Tap. _

"Wait, really?!" The blonde prat exclaimed, "But _how_?! You're the Girl-Who-Lived! Why would you be living with the muggles?"

"I know, a bit weird right? But where did you think I lived, anyway?"

Was the drumming of his fingers so loud as to echo in his ears? Or was that just the erratic beating of his heart? A cold sweat broke out, soaking the back of his shirt (he was normal, dammit! And he refused to wear those freakish robes!). He swiped at his forehead, his heels rooted to the floor stubbornly, but his hands had a mind of its own and beat a song of (<strike>fear</strike>) bravery. His thoughts revolved around jumping up and beating the freaks into their places (something his father used to do before _that day_) but his heart was a traitor, it imitated a rabbit shaking in fright of the wide jaws of a lion.

"I don't know," The boy was the picture-perfect of nonchalance, a stark difference to his shocked outrage a moment prior, "But I _know _that most of the Wizarding World believed you to be living your best life in some mansion. _My _father as sure you were hidden at the Potter Manor."

"But I asked what _you _think, Draco, not what your father or anyone else did. I'm still waiting for that answer."

"Oh."

(_How stupid of the freak. _Dudley reminded himself that he was _better _than the freaks, that he didn't have any reason to be _afraid_.)

(For some reason he couldn't quite convince himself.)

He spied the Freak's eying him from the corner of her eyes, the light glinting dangerously from the glass of her ugly spectacles. She didn't _do _anything, she didn't yell or _say _something, but it was a threat. This, Dudley knew. This, he was familiar with. 

He wanted to scream. To yell, pounce and beat her until she gave up (like how it used to be). 

_Tap. Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap. Tap Tap Tap._

He wanted to defend himself. It wasn't like he _wanted _to feel like he was suffocating! It wasn't like he wanted to be there (_no, the freaks had forced him!_). He didn't want any of it!

(_But it wasn't like the freaks cared._)

"Uhm," The blonde obnoxiously cleared his throat, ears burning, "I thought the same. That you were at the Potter Manor."

"Huh, I'll take your word for it. But yes, I _do _currently stay at a muggle residence. Right with my cousin, Dudley, over here."

_Tap. Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap. Tap Tap. _

He flinched as she absentmindedly referred to him with a smooth wave of her hands. Her eyes connected with his yet again and he felt like an insect under inspection, his heart wanted to jump from his chest and his fingers _ached_ from drumming the exact rhythm of his heart.

"Why?"

"It's not like I ask for it but I heard that someone named '_Dumbledore_' sent me there. Oh, you didn't know? How strange."

"Of course it was Dumbledore!" The blonde spat, "I mean, I thought you were staying with some of your relatives, but _muggles_?! How could he?"

_Tap Tap. Tap Tap Tap. Tap._

He shuddered as a horrid giggle escaped the lips of the little monster, "You don't like Dumbledore?"

"Of course not!" The blonde freak paused, "Wait, do _you _like him?"

"I don't know," A small shrug, "Maybe, maybe not."

"Are you _playing _me, Harriet?"

A frightful quirk of her lips and Dudley wanted to hurl, "Maybe, maybe not. What do _you _think, Draco?"

"I think I don't like people treating me like some game."

"But isn't everything a game? Huh, Malfoy?"

Silence.

Except for the insistent song that accompanied his fear like a lullaby for sleep. Except there was nothing soothing about it. It spurred him on, every beat encouraging the energy writhing underneath his skin like sparks of lightning and his heartbeat like thunder in his ears.

(_Why did this have to happen to him? He didn't ask for any of it!_)

He was rocking now, one fist clenching the hem of shirt, the other persistently tapping in some manic representation of his racing thoughts and his eyes were squeezed shut (he hadn't even noticed when he'd closed them). Perhaps he was trying to shut out the strangeness (_the freakishness_) of the world around him. A world he'd thought he'd known well, a world where everything simply _fit _together like pieces to a puzzle, where everything was _normal_ and **Dudley was normal**.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

_Tap. Tap. _

_Tap._

But closing his eyes did not shield him from sound, so when the Freak spoke again, he had no choice but to listen (_did he ever have a choice? When the Freak spoke, everyone was compelled to listen_), "So what about the goblins?"

(_He never had a choice. The freaks wouldn't let him_.)

_Tap. Tap Tap. Tap Tap Tap. Tap Tap. _

He could hear the discomfort in the blonde's voice even as he spoke without a stutter, "Someone tried to steal from a high-security vault. They wouldn't caught, which is why it's such a hit in the media. All summer the Daily Prophet and even the crackhead Quibbler did article after article on it. Even _Father _was interested and he's not someone to care for the goblins of all things."

_Tap Tap Tap. Tap Tap. _

The warmth from the freaky 'Diagon Alley' was returning, like a heated poker pressing down into his skin, burning and rotting, an unstoppable pressure that wouldn't let up. His thoughts was spinning, he couldn't pay attention to whatever the two freaks were conversing about, he was rocking back and fort like a mad person (_"Don't go near those freaks, son, they might rub off on you_") and the tapping of his index finger replicated the erratic rhythm of his unrestful heart. 

The blazing fire was slowly rising like a wave of lava, building and building. 

_Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap. Tap Tap._

It was not soothing like when he waved the (<strike>kinda cool</strike>) freakish wand, it was not like a large embrace from his father or a loving one from his mother.

_Tap Tap Tap. Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap._

No, this was uncomfortable in every sense of the word.

(He wondered if those blasted freaks saw _him _as a freak)

"-but I suppose that's because of those _muggles_ you live with. Must be tough."

Why was _normal _considered an insult in this new freakish world he was submerged in?

_Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap. Tap Tap._

Why was that _okay_?!

_Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap._

The drumming of fingers rang loudly to him, the darkness his closed eyes provided only served to bring attention to the disgusting, freakish shite he was hearing, and the building wave of smothering heat was enough to push him over the edge. But he held back because The Freak caught his eyes in its stunning green ones and he could feel his heart beating in her hands.

_Tap._

"Yeah, I didn't know much about the Wizarding World before this summer actually. So I guess I'm like a foreigner."

"Th-that's - how could _you not _know about the Wizarding World? It's your home!"

(_DUDLEY HADN'T EVEN WANTED TO BE THERE!_)

"Well, I _was _living with muggles."

(_What's so wrong with <strike>muggles</strike> normal people? Normal is good, freak is bad!)_

"Right. Then I'm your guide of sorts, right? I've got a lot to show you!"

(_Dudley just wanted to go back to his NORMAL LIFE!_)

"SHUT UP! Shut up, shut up shuddap!" It exploded out of him, his anger erupted out his lungs and the flames of his wrath ripping through his entire being like a razor, but his anger was vague and muddled (it did not know who to lash out at. _The freaks or the freak in **himself**_?) "I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT - about, YOUR FREAKISH STUPID THINGS!"

"Very articulate, Dudley."

A drawl, "Eloquence at its finest, what else would I expect from a _mudblood_."

That did it.

Dudley was no _mudblood_. He was not _muggleborn_. He was _not _a freakish label the freaks impressed on him. He was Dudley Dursely, Diddykins and the most Normalest Normal Boy in the world. He was _not a freak (_he wasn't!)

He pounced.

His fist cocked and ready to strike, his mind blank and devoid of thought, his anger all-consuming and his wrath like a righteous whip ready to instil justice into the freaks.

He struck, without hesitation and faster than he'd ever moved in his life (or so he felt in that moment). 

The blonde prick screeched and froze under him, eyes wide in fear and shock. They tumbled down, Dudley's weight dragging them to the ground.

Then the two boys dog-piled onto him, knuckles strangely pure as if they'd never been tainted by violence, their thumbs tucked into their clenched fingers. Amateurs.

The three freaks were smaller and weaker than him. 

(_"Beat the freakishness out of them, son" _He could swear he heard his father's voice echo inside him, _"Beat the justice into them_") 

-

It was fun. 

Oh, she'd always known she was above the other 'normal' people. The summer before, she hadn't even considered the possibility that even freaks could be 'normal'. But it was proven, the Wizarding World was full of more normal witches and wizards rather than freaks. She'd never felt so disappointed (she had, **_Jack ripped a hole in her heart and refused to give it back_**).

Draco Malfoy was every bit as normal and dull as Dudley Dursley. His two goons were dumber than Hagrid.

But at least they provided entertainment. 

So she sat back, she observed through keen eyes and her cracked spectacles. 

It wasn't like she hadn't known something would happen. She'd seen the way Dudley was manically rocking in his seat, shutting his eyes and clenching his shirt, she couldn't really hear the tapping of his finger against his knee but she saw it was a rapid, worrying pace and the boy was sweating bullets. It didn't take a genius to figure out he would explode. But she hadn't thought he would _really _engage _three _boys - it would appear that Dudley was really _that _stupid.

She finished her multi-coloured cracker and watched Dudley assaulted Draco, as the Malfoy boy writhed (_she had to give him props for not screaming_) under the pig's weight and as the two goons jumped in without a second thought. She took note that they both didn't even try to draw a wand.

Which was surely an anomaly.

She'd thought that for wizards and witches, specifically purebloods, that engaging in physical fights were 'too muggle' and below them. Yet Malfoy's two goons were quick to join Dudley in his show of humiliating himself.

The goons quickly disabled Dudley, one broke his nose but ended up breaking his own thumb, the other wrestled Dudley into submission as Draco crawled away.

"You didn't do anything!" The boy looked at her through wide, glass-like blue eyes as his pale hands clutched his bleeding nose, "I _know _you could've done something! But you didn't... Why?"

He really was the eloquent version of Dudley. He even looked at her the same way.

"I saw what you did in the robes shop! I _saw _you, Potter! So, _why_?"

Desperate, hysteric. 

Dramatic (_or was that just a pureblood thing?_)

Must be his first time attacked or attacked _physically_. 

Harriet didn't bother answering for a good moment.

She took that time to let her eyes wander and travel to the knocked out Dudley (_how weak, tears of all things were running down the sides of his face_), two panting idiots clutching their aching thumbs and back to one Draco Malfoy, robes ruffled and in a disarray, his hair messy (he looked quite good when it wasn't slicked back) and a bloody, broken nose.

"It was entertaining, Malfoy," She ignored his indignant gasp, "But I _am _disappointed you couldn't even raise your wand to defend yourself. You have yet to demonstrate just how much better you are than _mudbloods_, Draco."

"I-I am a pureblood-!"

"You are. Great at pointing out facts, let me help you point out another - you just engaged in a fight with a _mudblood _and lost."

"I'm not the one knocked out."

"No, but without your _idiot _goons, _you _are nothing."

"I could've _won _without them!"

"Then why didn't you? Same thing in the clothing shop, why didn't you save yourself then, too?"

Silence.

"Now how about you go ask one of the medical staff to help you with your nose problem? You and your two idiots that _saved _you."

"What about the _mudblood_? No care for your cousin?"

"He would mess up his nose again if he heard a _freak _healed him of it. He's too much of an idiot to realize when someone's trying to help him."

Yes. The train was unexpectedly more entertaining than she'd originally anticipated.

Nonetheless, it gave her a bit too think of.

The Malfoy's didn't like Dumbledore. Was that a trend amongst purebloods? But why?

Oh, right, she'd read something about a lot of (high ranking) pureblood families being involved in the dark side of the war, most notably being the Malfoys. That would be sufficient reason for the Malfoys to hate the supposed 'Paragon of Light'. But was that all? If that was truly it, then why exactly did a large majority of purebloods lean more to the dark? To such an extent that they would abhor the very same guy who stopped the first Wizarding War against nazi muggles and Gellert Grindelwald? They hated muggles so they must be a _little _thankful, right?

Also, the two idiots that followed Draco around. They were _slowe_rthan Dudley, which should be impossible. They hadn't reached for their wands even though they had time to think about the situation (unlike Draco), so why didn't they draw their wands? And Harriet _knew _they could use their wands on the train, she'd asked Hagrid and Draco hadn't refuted her claims.

Was that a side-effect of inbreeding? But Draco was pretty right in the head if a bit dramatic, and the Malfoys was the poster-family for traditional pureblood customs.

There was a lot to think of.

-

Draco's goons ended up going out to find the medic for the train. They were patched up quickly and settled back into the compartment. 

Dudley's body remained crumpled on the floor. 

She endured through the boy's chatter but he never stopped shooting her ghastly glances whenever he thought she wasn't looking (_was he afraid of her_?).

-

Harriet, Draco and the two other idiots were all dressed in their robes by the time the train came to a stop.

A voice echoed through the train, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The four of them left but not before:

Goon 1 spoke up nervously, still patting his rather sensitive thumb, "Are we gonna leave 'im here?"

"Yeah," Goon 2 chipped in, "Or do we drag 'im out? Dat'll be fun, right?"

Draco glanced at her.

"I'm sure someone will realize he's here. Plus, if he gets left behind and misses school - trust me, he'll be glad."

"Okay."

So all four of them left, The Goon Duo sneering nastily in the general direction of the muggleborn boy. Harriet felt no pity for her cousin, Dudley had left her in worse states before and never got in trouble for it.

-

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

Breathtaking. Grand. Something straight out of one of her fictitious books.

A part of her resonated deeply with the castle shrouded in a silvery glow. This was where she was meant to be.

Harriet knew that the stage had just expanded, the plot evolving and the cast increasing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now in this chapter, I showcased some of the inner struggles within Dudley and his flaw in thinking, so I understand if it might've been confusing. Dudley, as I have stated before, is confused and just had his entire world stop spinning. So yes, his thoughts ARE confusing and a bit hypocritical at times. 
> 
> When writing from Dudley's point of view, I use 'it' to refer to Harriet aka The Freak. This is intentional. This is because Dudley views Harriet as a monster, something that is below 'normal humans' yet dangerous and tyrannical (but Harriet never gave him a reason to NOT think like that). So I apologize if the switch of pronouns was a bit confusing there.
> 
> Now in terms of the short appearance of Hermoine: She is described as a teacher's pet, bossy, insecure etc. in the first book. She's one of my favourite characters so this wouldn't be bashing her, but I do need her to grow a bit. The direction of Hermoine will technically be the same but different in many ways. Hermoine definitely had character development, but I want a bit more at a bit earlier, so that's why she's gonna have to go down a couple of different routes.
> 
> Yes, I have it in the tags: "Draco Malfoy is a Diva". In this, he will be shown as a bit bratty, prickish, dramatic, a bit naive and among other personality traits. Draco, much like Dudley, will be important to the story and will be going under some character reformations. Sort of, not to the degree that Dudley will have to undergo.  
So yes, Draco will not be stuck in his muggleborn hating for the rest of his life.
> 
> Draco was, in my headcanon, a bit of a fanboy to be honest. The Girl-Who-Lived is a popular, real story that is probably shoved down the throats of many kids inside the wizarding community so its no wonder Draco would be curious about her. I don't believe he would 'worship' her or anything, but he would be curious in the power that took down the Dark Lord. His father would be too.
> 
> What got Draco even more interested was because he saw a glimpse of that power and cunning in Harriet that day at the robes store. I would think he would confront his father on meeting her and would get tips to make connections with the Potter Heir. Even if his father might want to use or destroy her later on.
> 
> Its just politics really. 
> 
> So he was a bit giddy to meet the Girl-Who-Lived but tried to keep his 'cool guy' image. That's how I imagine it anyway, so that's how it'll be.
> 
> Also, Draco keeps on blushing a bit when Harriet refers to him by his first name. I will get down into the bones of the true importance of names later but basically, the first name is a super big deal and very intimate whether on a friendship level or relationship or whatever. It shows you aren't just acquaintances who'll easily backstab each other. Calling someone by their first name without them telling you to, is presumptuous and rude. Which leads me to my important message that Harriet is NOT going to end up with Draco at no later point in this. Draco also, currently, holds no crush for her and vice versa.
> 
> DUDLEY FUN FACT: He's actually pretty sensitive to magical energy and frequency due to mental rejection of it. It is because of his rejection that he will have trouble even with Unicorn Core which is a pretty stable wand core. His rejection, as we know, stems from his hate of magic and environment that caused his mentality. 
> 
> Also, the Dursley's hadn't MEANT to brainwash their kid, but it was a natural progression that was bound to happen.
> 
> And finally, I don't know if there IS a medic on train but I imagine so. This is because it's a train full of magical children with little adult supervision with, and I repeat, MAGIC. Yes, there might be some magical protocols or spellwork to prevent any serious mishaps but I believe that a medic of some kind would be the responsible thing to ensure. (Not that the magical world or Hogwarts ever tried to be too responsible near children) This is just my headcanon but whatever.  
FUN FACT: The medic is a muggleborn.


End file.
